Losing Control
by doesnt-go-away
Summary: Christina is supposed to be resting. Wilhelmina/Christina femslash. Don't like it DON'T read it.


Title: Losing Control

Fandom: Ugly Betty

Pairing: Wilhelmina/Christina

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own Ugly Betty but I'd love to own Vanessa Williams.

Spoilers: Odor in the Court (2.12) and Thousand Words by Friday (2.13)

Summary: Christina is supposed to be resting. Wilhelmina's POV.

A/N: Can be considered as a sequel or whatever of my other story Both Sides Now, however, it's okay to read it without the first one. Just please review!

A/N2: Dedicated to the loyal, gentle reviewer ALICE IT'S RAINing, who reads all the stuff I write. Cheers for UB femslash \o/

Losing Control

She's supposed to be resting.

She's supposed to be lying on bed, quietly waiting for any feeling that might tell that she is expecting your child.

That's not what she's doing. And that's your fault.

She let's out a loud moan, the first since you started, and you feel that embarrassing feeling of euphoria for making her react. She has always made you do your best, resisting to let go until the very last moment.

She loves it. You hate her. You give her your best evil smirk and kiss her, biting hard her bottom lip making her gasp.

"Devil," she pants, her eyes so dark and her mouth raw. The part where you bit bleeds a little and you lick her lips to soothe the wound.

Like you always do with her.

It's never been something you can control, your relationship with this weird woman that smells like a keg of Scott. And even though you hate losing control of things, it's just impossible to stop. You hate each other; you snap at each other, and nonetheless, you fuck each other.

In more than one way.

You hurt her a lot, and then you lick the wound just to make it again. You used to hurt her making fun of her creations, making her work until after midnight, blackmailing her to do make you dangerous and unethical favors.

To give it back at you; she made you lose control.

Not only when she used to push you against a wall of the closet in lunch time, making you terrified that someone might show up out of nowhere and still you wouldn't be able to stop her because those moments were one of the things that gave you strength to go on with your plans.

She made you lose it when she left to help her disaster little friend with her idiotic boyfriends, or when she would drink enough to make some people reach alcoholic coma in parties, and then would sneak into a bathroom with some jerk, because you two aren't exclusive but still, you always hated to know what she does and you always hated to _care_, and you always knew she loved it and only did those things to piss you off.

But mostly, the thing that makes you lose it completely is when she says that she won't be never on your side. When she refuses to help you. Like when she stayed at Mode after you left. You knew she wouldn't follow you, but still, it made you crazy.

It bothers the hell out of you that even agreeing to bend on her knees to make you scream, it's impossible for you to make her help you without having to force her.

She is really noisy now, and screams cursing when you bury a fourth finger and starts to rub your thumb roughly against her clit. Her blonde hair is a completely mess sticking on her sweaty forehead, her small, talented hands grip painfully on your shoulders and she opens her eyes to meet yours like she always do when she is about to come.

You missed her. And you hate her too.

You don't even blink as you watch her body relax and feel her trembling against you. Then just for a second she has that gleam in her blue eyes, the one that it's for you only and looks almost like adoration. Then it's gone.

You clench your jaw like you always do after she looks at you like that because you know that it's one of those times that you feel an urge to say something nice, but that's just not you, so you shut up.

If only she was actually on _your_ side.

You lay on your back, suddenly very tired of everything, wishing that this power she has of making you lose control would just go away when she straddles you, still half-breathed.

"Your turn," she says with her annoying-yet-a-turn-on accent, and you wish you could stop this to happen. It always ends in the same way; you hurting her or she walking out on you.

"You're supposed to be resting." you tell her but she just laughs a little.

"You didn't seem to mind about this when you decided to jump me."

"You said you were bored." you answer.

"Well, I'm still bored. It's your turn." she insists, her hands going down to caress your thigh "And I don't like to owe you things." she completes and this time her tone is dark and serious.

The usual fury that you feel when she stars babbling about not being on your side hits you in the stomach but before you can say anything she's on her knees, head between your legs and you can't form a complete sentence.

She's supposed to be resting, but it's not like you have any control left about anything.

Not anymore.

end


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